


Fortune's Weave

by CorsetJinx



Series: We never asked to be heroes [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Attempted Murder, Fortune Telling, Gen, Magic, Magic Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: The path of the stars and the fates they depict are what interests an astrologian. That’s not to say, of course, that they can’t be blindsided into adventuring too.





	1. Chapter 1

The heat sends people scattering before noon even comes. Those used to it fare better, bask in it even, and he’s lucky enough to have a decent string of customers idle by. He must look a sight - a Sun Seeker lazing the hours by, star globe and cards at the ready for anyone who steps up.

“Care to have your fortune told?” He asks the lalafell smartly dressed in lilac silks, ears parking. His tail sways behind him, curling a little as she makes up her mind and finally nods.

The star globe whirs gently at the touch of his hand, ready to begin.

“Shall I consult the stars or the cards for you?”

“The stars please.” She has a sweet little voice. It goes well with the dreamer’s gleam in her eye and he sketches a bow as best he can while sitting. Her hands fold over each other as he channels a tendril of aether into the globe, brows furrowing as the lights inside the mechanism begin to spin and dance.

Intuition tells him to keep the process going even after the first result reveals itself - no more than a sort of brief vision in his mind’s eye. A glimpse of only one possibility among many.

_A flowering tree, boughs heavy with the riches of nature. A chalice, cradled in a lover’s hand. A heavy thundercloud, split open by a spear._

He brings the globe to a halt, shifting among the possibilities for the most favorable one. Neither the tree or the chalice, it seems - instead he tells her of an hourglass half full, a tide raised by the wind to lap at distant shores. At the end of it, fortune indeed, if she can but have the patience.

She humors him with a smile, big brown eyes twinkling. “It was a pretty show, at least. How did you get it to spin like that?”

“Magic.” He answers with a wink, ears twitching. “And a lot of practice.”

“Keep up the good work then.” Coins clink as she offers him his fee. “Perhaps next time I’ll be wed and friends with the Sultana by your predictions.”

He bows most humbly at that, as though Nanamo Ul Namo herself stood before him. “Mayhap, my lady! The one thing constant about the future is that it can always change.”

It takes a pull of aether and a flick of his wrist, but he manages to conjure a tiny flower of ice. Under the sun it gleams, cool to the touch. As he hands it to her his only regret is not being able to change the color to mimic a true flower.

Still, she gasps with delight and turns it between her fingers to admire the refraction it casts.

“It should last an hour.” He smiles, setting the star globe in his lap for the moment. “More, perhaps, if you’ve a means to keep it cool. If nothing else it shall cool the skin and act in lieu of a diamond for a time.”

“I like you.” She grins, giving the trinket another spin. “Will you be in Thanalan long?”

It’s hard to say, really. But he only drums his fingers against his thigh, smiling faintly as one with a secret might. “The stars guide me, my lady. I can do naught but answer their call.”

“A pity.” She tuts, sliding his little gift behind one ear. It twinkles charmingly against her hair. “Take care, wherever your business takes you.”

It’s not hard to wave as she turns to depart. He feels that he actually might miss her a little when it does come time for him to leave. Customers like her make it worth the while to put on this little show, after all.

Lifting his globe he gives it an idle spin, staring into the depths without a goal in mind. The whirl of light is soothing, after a fashion and he has only time to occupy him at the moment.

Something niggles at the back of his mind. An image taking shape - a brief impression of the future.

_Fire. Smoke. A painful tickling in the lungs and a voice. A command. A crystal._

_**Hear. Feel. Think.** _

He stops the globe’s rotation with a sudden jolt of awareness, ears stiff and tail bristling for reasons he cannot name. The sun beats down on the town, baking everything in its reach but he feels chill. A furtive glance confirms that he is alone, yet somehow it does not ease his spirits.

With effort he pushes the premonition aside, hopping down from his perch and stretching the kinks out of his muscles. He’s been out for too long, that’s all. Too long in the sun without something to drink and it’s begun to mess with his head.

He firmly tells himself that as he ambled off in search of the nearest pub, determined not to worry about it.


	2. Lost

The smoke, when he became aware of it, filled the back of his throat with an unpleasant sort of pickling. His eyes watered, trails of tears winding down his face. His ears pressed flat against his skull, but that did not stop the sound of timber creaking and groaning ominously.

_So, every fate is laid out for you to pick eh?_

He told the little voice to shut up and began to crawl towards the door. Luckily it hadn’t been blocked and he managed to coax it open without burning himself too much. It took more effort than it should have to make it through the tiny building, a hastily made mask over his mouth and nose doing a little to keep the smoke out of his mouth and nose.

Despair rooted him in place when he spied the remnants of his books - leather and parchment and paper greedily consumed by tongues of flame.

Nothing for it then. If he could not save them, he’d just have to replace them someday. _After_ he made it out of this pit of hell alive.

By the Twelve, whoever had the idea to burn _books_ would taste the heel of his boot if he found them. _When_ he found them.

There was already a ruckus when he finally tumbled out, soot-covered and dizzy. Fresh air had a tang to it - or perhaps that was the fire - and he fetched. Voices arose - concerned about the fire spreading and who might have caused it. It was loud, too loud, and he covered his ears and shrank in on himself once he’d stumbled out of immediate danger.

He stayed there, singed and hazy about the edges until the fire eventually was corralled and mercilessly put out. Someone plied him with questions - all he registered was a tall, dark shape with a low voice. Whatever answer he apparently mumbled seemed to satisfy.

No, there’d been no one else in the house. He had no pets either, though he keenly regretted giving up his carbuncle right then.

Carbuncles were good friends to have. Good at pointing out when your house was about to come down around your ears too.

He shook his head when the one looming over him asked if he knew how the fire had started. He’d been asleep, rather cozily, and only woken because of the smell. Miqo'te noses were very sharp. He still had some pride in that, even if his nose currently hurt like he’ll.

It wasn’t the first time he’d uprooted, true, but it certainly was a first to lose just about everything he could call his own.

A brave volunteer crept out of the smoking heap with something in their hands, picking their way over to him with care. He blinked at it, then hesitantly reached for the proffered sphere.

A little dirty, soot finding its way into the inner rings with all the mischievousness of a child. The lights within flickered when he cradled the globe, still responsive to the touch of his aether. His cards, bless the Sun, they were still there. Smoke-stained, but otherwise unharmed.

_Not so bad_ , he told himself as he coaxed the mechanism into a ginger spin. _Not so bad at all._


	3. Meeting

“You have a fascination with that crystal, don’t you?” Thancred folded his arms loosely over his chest, mouth quirking when the distracted astrologian looked up.

The crystal fair hummed between M'arach’s fingers, its light soothing and impossibly clear. He flicked an ear at the rogue, smiling as he slid the stone back into its hiding place.

“Apologies. I didn’t think it would offend.”

The hyur waved a hand. “No offense taken. It looks like a curious trinket, to be sure.”

Another ear flick, this time paired with a twitch of his tail. He settled for leaning back against the wall behind him, eyeing the Scions’ new _headquarters_ of a sort.

“I haven’t come at a bad time have I?” M'arach squashed the impulse to perch on one of the tables nearby. It wouldn’t look good, really, if he were caught acting like a fool before he had the chance to meet the others.

Provided, of course, that there _were_ others and he hadn’t been strung along by a glowing stone and a woman’s voice in his dreams.

“No. Just a bit busy.” Thancred’s eye curved just a little. “They should be along soon.”

_Soon_ could mean any number of things. Minutes, bells, even days perhaps. Well, he knew of one way to pass the time.

He smiled, calling up his star globe. “Shall I tell your fortune as we wait? Tis harmless, I assure you.”


End file.
